Incunabula (idea)

The Latin word incunabulum (plural
incunabula, and sometimes anglicized as
incunable) literally means cradle, and
more loosely refers to the infancy,
birthplace or origin of something. It is
most often used in reference to early
printed books, and in this sense an
incunabulum is further defined even more
specifically as being a book printed
using moveable type prior to the year
1501AD.

Before the invention of printing using
moveable type, books were copied by
hand, word for word, letter by letter, by
scribes, generally onto parchment or
vellum. Obviously, this was an extremely laborious and time-consuming
method, and the level of production was minimal -- not
to mention the potential for errors during transcription.
Later, the method of block printing was devised (i.e. in
Europe, as this method had been used for centuries in
the Orient) wherein the entire text for a page was cut
into wood and thus printed, although even this method
was rather labour-intensive as well. However, great
care was often undertaken in the reproduction of books
in both of these ways, and the pages were often
subsequently "illuminated" with wonderful illustrations
and ornaments. Some of the most beautiful books ever
made come from the time before the invention of printing with moveable
type, and the first books which were printed using this latter method
endeavoured to emulate that beauty and form.

There are still many, many contemporary artisans who practice
hand-bookbinding in a manner not all that dissimilar to the methods used
by Gutenberg, and even the invention of digital media has not changed
that in many respects. Although virtually anyone with a computer and
word processing software can now typeset documents easily and
effectively without having to resort the laborious process of sorting and
inserting individual letters into a press, still the endeavour of cutting and
folding the papers, hand-sewing the final signatures, gluing the spine and
completing one's creation complete with gold-foil decoration and trim
and securely bound in leather is no simple task and requires not hours or
even days of practice, but many years of apprenticeship before one can
truly call oneself a master of the art.

On the other hand, some might argue that modern methods of printing
have been a blessing with regard to readability of text (as opposed to,
say, blackletter type), more consistency and user-friendly, portable
formats, etc., not to mention the way in which modern technology and
computers have increased the speed of publishing to the point that what
might have taken Gutenberg and his contemporaries an entire year to
print can now be done in a day, or even just a few hours. Yet, there's
something to be said for all those "old books", something far greater than
just looking upon them as mere stepping stones to what our great
publishing industry has become today. Other than that minority of
publishers who still value and practice the art of hand-bookbinding, quite
simply they just don't make them like they used to, and that statement is
made very much in deference to the true beauty and timelessness of
those early works in this art -- for works of art they were indeed, with
each book being a genuine reflection of not only the author of the words,
but of the paper-maker, the printer and typesetter, the artist who created
whatever woodcuts might have been used to illustrate the pages, and the
binder who painstakingly sewed, glued, pressed and tooled each and
every volume by hand. Nowadays we might browse through bookstores
and some flashy cover might catch our eye, we'll pick it up, flip it over,
read the blurb on the back and maybe flip a few pages to see if the words
contained therein might hold some attraction for us, but to peruse the
shelves of an antiquarian bookseller and discover some curious volume is
a much more complete experience. It's not only the words on the pages
that we might read and find pleasure in, in fact it might not be the words
at all! Beyond the meaning of the text that might feed our mind in some
way, the type face with which
that text is printed can be a
feast for the eyes in itself, and
often reason enough for the
purchase of some quaint
volume. And even more it can
be an experience for many
senses, for one can take great
pleasure in the binding itself, or
the illustrations, the endpapers,
or any other manner in which
the work was enhanced and
adorned. One can feel
something so unique in an old
book that is so rarely there in
any contemporary mass-produced volume, and even smell the history of
every home and every hand that ever cherished it. To hold one of these
works in one's hands is so much more than just holding a great string of
words printed on numerous pages all glued together at the edge, but
rather to hold the very soul and life-blood of all those craftsmen and
artisans who lived so many hundreds of years ago.